


Chance

by TheRoarOfAtlas



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst, Asshole!Seth, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Money in the Bank 2016, No Smut, Shield Triple Threat, The complete disregard I have for kayfabe is legendary, WWE Battleground 2016, ambreigns - Freeform, just feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 12:39:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7618435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoarOfAtlas/pseuds/TheRoarOfAtlas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean loses his cool when Roman loses his belt (set during MITB 2016 and Battleground 2016).</p><p>[x-posted to Tumblr and Fanfiction.net]</p><p>Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chance

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of this is just me being "a goddamn tinker" as King Ross would say. And also Seth is a major douchebag here (spoilers???). You have been warned, now enjoy!

Dean rested his forehead on the briefcase, caught in a wave of disbelief as the Universe roared for him, for _him!_ He could hardly breathe. 

 

Mister Money In The Bank.  _Him!_

 

He mugged for a little while at the top of the ladder, smirking down at Cesaro, Del Rio, Owens, Zayn and Jericho all sprawled out beneath him. Then came the slow, sore climb down.

 

He staggered back behind the curtain, gold briefcase still pressed over his heart. The metal edges of it dug into his ribs uncomfortably but he didn't,  _couldn't_ care. Because Roman was standing in front of him, eyes wide and body tense like Dean was the fucking sun, like Dean was amazing and awe-inspiring and it made Dean's heart race even faster.

 

“Holy fucking _shit_ Uce.” The low timbre sent a zing of want through Dean's body, already aching and hard from the match he'd had. There was no denying his kinks and Roman knew that, shouldering him roughly into the wall and kissing him breathless. The briefcase ended up trapped between them, Reigns using his superior weight to force it harder into Ambrose's chest.

 

“ _Wow_.” 

 

Dean felt like he ought to cry. So much emotion was twisted up in his lungs and stomach. Roman should be furious with him. Just for winning, winning the shot at threatening his regime. But here he was, giving Dean a hero's fucking welcome.

 

“I'm so proud.” Roman said finally, half-crooning the words into Ambrose's ear and making the lithe man shudder. “You're the only one I'd want with that fucking briefcase, Dean. The only one I trust to give me a good fight.”

 

Dean raised wide eyes to Reigns, startled. He had no idea that was how Roman felt about the match. Roman gave him a grin, cupping his cheek and brushing some of the hair back that was stuck to his forehead. “You make me fucking  _proud_ , Uce. I won't let you down, okay? And tonight...” Reigns trailed off, smile softening. 

 

Dean's stomach flipped and he nodded furiously, smiling. _Tonight_.

 

Roman's match however, didn't go as expected. Dean watched one of the monitors in the back, his heart in his throat as Roman hit Seth with move after move, all desperation and fight. But it wasn't enough, it was never enough for Seth.

 

Rollins chipped at Roman, slamming into him with the zeal of a man who had been out for months and had an itch to scratch. His flurries of punches and kicks landed with deadly accuracy, wearing Reigns down and forcing him to use more and more energy to keep going.

 

When Rollins sent Reigns crashing into the steel steps Ambrose had to latch on to his lower lip to keep from yelling. _He's hurt! He's hurt and there's nothing I can do!_ Roman rolled back to his feet, holding his shoulder and grimacing in pain.

 

Somehow he managed to pull off a _glorious_ Razor's Edge, but Rollins kicked out of the Powerbomb and proceeded to crack Roman's face off the turnbuckle.

 

The champion was stunned and knocked out of the ring by a zealous series of kicks, then driven twice into the barricade. Both men ended up in a heap outside the ring, chests heaving with exertion.

 

They traded blows mercilessly, Roman barely managing to reverse out of the Pedigree and catch Seth with a resounding Superman Punch. But it wasn't enough.

 

Dean got a sinking feeling in his chest.

 

It was never enough for Rollins.

 

Reigns finally seemed to crack, falling for Seth's ploy and sending himself head-first into the barricade when Rollins moved out of the way. Ambrose made a helpless noise in his throat, watching the way Roman staggered and gripped the barricade for support when he finally made it back to his feet. _He hit so hard...Roman, please be okay!_

 

Rollins absorbed the beating from the barely-standing champion once he got him back into the ring, and then finally trapped Roman in the Pedigree, sending the exhausted Samoan crashing face-first into the mat.

 

Roman lay there, motionless, while the referee counted and...

 

It was over.

 

Dean screamed in rage at the monitor, startling the hell out of Sami and Cesaro beside him. He bolted to his feet, briefcase feeling like a lead weight in his hand. Another thing inside him snapped finally, after years and _years_ of dancing on the edge. The last thing he remembered was careening through the curtain; he was pretty sure he came damn close to swinging the briefcase into the referee's head. The rest of it was just flashes. 

 

His muscles crying out in protest from running to the ring _one more fight just one more fight_.

 

How exhausted and terrified Seth looked when he snapped his teeth wildly at his face _as it should be as it should be_ his brain screamed in triumph.

 

The way Roman laid on the floor against the commentators table _not Roman not Roman anyone but Roman._

 

The next thing Dean knew he was back behind the curtain with Roman's arm draped over his shoulder, but instead of a briefcase in his hand...

 

“What?” he gasped, voice hoarse from overuse as he stared at the belt, stunned. He shoved it into Roman's hands, startled when the man leaning on him gently nudged it back.

 

“It's yours, Uce.” Roman's eyes were sad but he still managed a smile.

 

“What?  _ No! _ ” Dean snarled. “That's not how...I don't want it, its  _ yours! _ ”

 

“You won it, Uce. You beat him fair and square, even I saw that.” Reigns said softly. “You did good.”

 

“ _ Ro _ , you gotta' understand, I wasn't  _ fucking there _ . I was...I don't know. I've got nothing. Little bits and pieces.” Dean was frantic, fingers white-knuckled on the strap. He didn't want this shit. Roman's emblem on the belt dug into his palm, all polished sharp edges. “Roman I...”

 

“Hey, hey.” Roman hushed him, pushing the hair back from his forehead with that same weak smile. “It's alright, Uce. The important thing is that we're both safe, and Rollins had an even shorter reign than me with Sheamus.”

 

Dean flinched, eyes narrowing as Roman's tear-streaked face came roiling to the front of his mind, after Survivor Series when he was covered in ticker tape and bruises. “That  _ fucker _ .”

 

“Cool it.” Reigns sounded weary. “It's one of the reasons I was so happy  _ you _ got the briefcase.”

 

“I can't. Reigns I...” Ambrose fumbled, the terror setting in as he realized what he'd done. He was the WWE Heavyweight _Champion_. And he had no idea what the fuck he was going to do. “Can't I just tell them I won it for you or something?”

 

“Real funny Dean.”

 

“I'm  _ serious _ Roman, I didn't mean to do this! I just-I just snapped. I saw you lose and I...” Dean shook his head as a fresh ache started pounding in his temple. “I can't believe I finally fucking checked out. What the fuck.”

 

“Uce, you weren't 'in there' for any of that?” Roman asked, head lolling back onto Dean's shoulder for a minute.

 

“Fragments. Shit, I didn't bite him did I? I snapped at him.” Ambrose groaned.

 

“You were on your best behavior.” Reigns answered dryly. “After you clocked him in the skull with the briefcase, of course.”

 

“This is _your_ belt!” Dean burst out, finally identifying why he felt so strange about this. “It's _yours_ Roman! You fucking worked for it! You fucking _bled_ for this shit! How the fuck- _why_ the fuck did I do this? What the fuck is _wrong_ with me?!”

 

“Dean, hey--”

 

“ _No! This isn't mine! I don't fucking_ _ **want**_ _it!_ ” Ambrose slapped the belt into Roman's hand, relieved when Reigns curled his fingers around it so it didn't drop to the floor. “Keep it, _please_ keep it!” Dean begged.

 

“I _can't_ Uce, everyone saw you win it. They'll be coming to swap the plates soon.” Reigns' sad smile was eating a fucking hole in Dean's chest. He hated the way it looked on Roman, hated the air of defeat around him.

 

“I'll tell them...I'll tell them I don't want them to change the plates.” Ambrose mumbled, finally coming across an empty chair in the hallway and helping Roman sit. “I'll leave your plates on it. Defend it until you're healed up from this. You gotta' get looked at, Ro. You scared the fuck out of me.”

 

Roman winced. “Yeah, not proud of that fucking hit. I thought I took my head off for a minute.”

 

“If they take you out to heal, I'm not letting go of this fucking belt until you're one hundred percent.” Dean promised. “I _ain't_ changing the plates, so you can fuck off!” he raised his voice at the tech who was approaching, making the young man flinch.

 

“I'm sorry, Mr. Ambrose, b-but-”

 

Dean stalked over to him, rising to his full and terrifying height of six foot four. “I _ain't_. Changing. _The plates_.” he snarled firmly.

 

“I think he'd like to keep them for right now.” Roman said quietly, rubbing his forehead. “He'll call you if he changes his mind, okay?”

 

“O-of course, sorry about that!” the tech was fairly vibrating in fear as he ran back down the hallway.

 

Roman ' _tsk_ 'ed at Dean, making the taller man turn back to him. “Well you've got the champion _attitude_ already.”

 

“I'm sorry, Reigns. This is all a little...much.” Ambrose said with some difficulty. He wasn't exactly used to dealing with this shit.

 

“I know, Dean. Trust me. Every time you get this strap its like a thousand fucking responsibilities come crashing back down onto you. You get the ecstasy of the win, the triumph and the crowd screaming your name but...” Roman trailed off, rubbing his eyes and heaving in a shuddering breath. “Well, _most_ of us get the crowd screaming their name.” he finished, sounding a little bitter.

 

“Ro, hey, c'mon. You're a fucking amazing champion. Still are in my book.” Dean protested, but Roman's tired smile was back.

 

“I wish you'd been in your head when you won. The place lit up, Uce. It fucking...you did good. They want you.” Reigns bit his lip, leaning forward in the chair.

 

“Roman...” Dean was at a loss for words as he watched Roman's shoulders heave. Reigns was fucking _crying_ again, and it was all his fault. “Uce, hey, please you can't...if you start up I'm gonna' too.”

 

“I can work as hard as I want, y'know? Fight, get hurt, talk, punch, yell. It doesn't fucking matter though. They'll still fucking boo me.” Reigns held his battered shoulder, wincing. “It doesn't fucking matter.”

 

“It matters to _me_ , Reigns!” Ambrose said fiercely, making Roman raise his head to look at him. “It matters! _You_ matter! Don't fucking listen to anyone but the people that care about you, okay? I...the only reason I'm _here_ right now is _you_ , so don't you dare say it doesn't matter!”

 

“Wh-what?” Roman blinked up at Dean, looking confused.

 

“I wouldn't have made it without you, Roman. Neither would Seth. We would have fucking murdered each other, you know that! You were the glue that held us together, man! Always picking up the slack, leveling us out. You saw me from before, teamwork isn't exactly my forte.” Dean snapped. “Don't you fuckin' _dare_ say it doesn't matter.”

 

He swallowed hard, unable to meet Roman's eyes as they filled with tears again. “They roared for you when you Speared the fuck out of Triple H. When you got that belt back from Sheamus they were screaming ' _you deserve it_ '. You and AJ had insane fucking matches, _beautiful_ fucking matches. You're an _entertainer_ , Ro. You put on a damn good fucking show. And...and as long as _someone_ is behind you, you ain't fuckin' alone, alright? I mean, I ain't exactly the most _stable_ motherfucker but for the time being, I ain't been carted off Uce.”

 

“Dammit Dean.” Reigns huffed, scrubbing at his face. “I'm already a fucking mess, man. Go easy on me.”

 

“No!” Ambrose yelled. “I won't! I haven't said any of this shit to _anyone_ ever before and _you're_ the one that needs to hear it! You're beautiful, you're smart as fuck and talented, and _strong_ and brave and _everything I ever wanted to be!_ You're what a champion looks like, you're how a champion acts! And now I-” Dean's voice choked off and he blinked, staring at the floor. “Now I'm...now I have to do what you do and I'm terrified, Roman.”

 

“What the fuck, Dean. You've been in fucking _death_ matches, barbed wire shit. You've had belts before.” Reigns pointed out, and Dean shook his head.

 

“It's different Reigns. This is big. _Huge_. Way bigger than anything I've had before. Even when I stole it from Rollins way back when I _knew_ it wasn't mine. I knew I was just a grubby thief. Now it's mine for real and I'm so fucking scared.” He ran his hands through his hair, yanking on the ends of it as he started to pace. “What if Rollins tries for it. What if I fucking lose? What if I check out again _and_ lose? They'll throw me into the 'jacket, into the fucking strait again. Nice fucking padded room, for my crazy ass.”

 

Roman caught Dean's knee on his way by, fixing him with a stern look. It was a little softened with his face all puffy from crying, but Ambrose still felt his insides twist. “Dean. Please. You're burning through all three of those valuable brain cells you have.” His smile, his _real_ smile broke free after a few seconds of silence and Dean relaxed, smiling back.

 

“Fuck ya', Uce. I'm down to one and a quarter.”

 

…

 

The news of Roman's suspension hit Dean like a sack of bricks. Reigns watched warily as Dean snarled and slammed the closet door a few times in frustration. “Hey, Uce, it's okay.” he tried to comfort him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

 

But Dean shrugged it off, infuriated. “ _Why?!_ ” he yelled.

 

“I got a nasty concussion, Uce. You saw that shit. I know I'd fail the impact test if they gave it to me. I'll just take the suspension for refusing the test instead of whatever they'd do to me if I failed.” Roman's weak smile was back, and Dean felt the all-too-familiar jolt of guilt down his spine.

 

He _hated_ that smile.

 

This was so much crap all at once, piled high on Roman's plate. The thought forced the lighter-haired man to calm down somewhat, and he bumped his forehead against Roman's shoulder.

 

“I'm...I'm sorry Ro. This is awful.” he mumbled. “I want to help. You've been so good to me, man. How do I help you?”

 

“Hang onto that belt, Uce.” Roman said firmly. “You keep it safe. Slap Rollins around with it a few times. Make him regret having it even for a second.” He gently raised Dean's face so he could look him in the eye. “Hold court in your fucking asylum and make him _pay_.”

 

Roman had a way of infusing his words with steel. Dean shuddered as his voice washed over him. “I'm scared, Ro.” he admitted, fidgeting when Roman let go of his chin.

 

“You're always going to be scared. But being brave isn't about being fearless. It's about shoving past that and getting your shit _done_. I have faith in you, Dean. You're my brother. You're the man that I...you um. I want you to stay safe.” Roman stuffed his hands into his pockets.

 

They did this a lot, this...dancing around words. They'd been exclusive for months, and hanging out as friends for way longer. Dean couldn't understand why the idea of saying some punk words to Roman sent his heart slamming in his chest. They were just _words_ , dammit.

 

…

 

Thirty days without Roman had been...well. Saying they were difficult would be putting it mildly. And now, with his heart in his throat and that belt strapped heavily around his waist, Dean stared both Roman and Rollins down after he stepped into the ring.

 

He saw the way Reigns looked at him, could see the smile that the man couldn't let out at the moment crinkling around those gray eyes. Dean could also feel the simmering fury coming off Seth in waves, watching the way his fists clenched and unclenched rapid-fire at his sides. The younger man was probably livid at the fact that Reigns was even here tonight, never mind that he was contending for the belt.

 

The Shield. Brothers once, all three champions former and current. Tonight would decide whether Rollins was right for shattering them, whether he really was the “ _best for business_ ” like he claimed. Tonight would decide whether Reigns gave a _fuck_ about what anyone thought, or whether he was “ _The Guy_ ” regardless of who loved _or_ hated him.

 

Tonight...

 

Tonight would reveal to Dean himself whether he had earned his own set of plates ( _champion material_ ), or whether he was still just some lovestruck lunatic hanging onto his brother's belt.

 

Rollins mouthed “ _welcome back Big Dog_ ” at Roman with a sneer on his face, and Roman flat-out _snarled_ at him. Ambrose raised his eyebrows, startled. Roman didn't usually...

 

Seth held out his clenched fist between the two other men, looking back and forth at them with something akin to glee. Dean's teeth grit together as he fought the urge to bite Seth's fingers off. He saw Roman's jaw tense and knew that his brother was having a similar problem.

 

A thousand thoughts bubbled up. So many times they'd been in the ring as allies, compatriots. Clashing with whoever dared to stand in their way and more often than not emerging victorious. But now, here was the source of their contention, their implosion.

 

Standing there, begging for a fistbump.

 

Like he _deserved_ it, big happy grin on his face as he waited. Dean could hardly blame Reigns for snarling.

 

The bell rang and before Seth could react, Reigns shoulder-checked him right to the mat. Ambrose whooped in delight and went after Roman, smiling at the other man as they brawled. _This is how it should be_ , he thought. _This is how I wanted it to be. Thank you, Roman._

 

Reigns was holding back, Dean realized after the large man had turned _away_ from Rollins to make sure 'The Lunatic' would land safely when he bounded from the top rope. Dean knew exactly how strong Roman was, so he didn't understand why he wasn't giving it his all. He practically _let_ Seth and Dean Powerbomb him through that table and just laid there, like it had been an earth-shattering landing. Like he hadn't stopped Dean moments earlier with nothing but his chest and a grunt. Like he hadn't lifted Seth up and over him, fighting _through_ the Pedigree which had put him down the last time they'd had a match.

 

Dean didn't see the chair coming, the hit knocking the wind out of him and making his back scream in agony. He staggered, brain clawing for a grip on reality as the memory eagerly surged forward.

 

_Seth's cackle ringing in his ears the sound of Roman choking while Orton crushed the top of the metal chair into his throat the iron taste in his mouth from biting his tongue the ache for breath in his lungs the Universe screaming abuse at Seth when Dean couldn't his brother his **brother** why--_

 

Something, one more thing made a dull snapping noise in the back of Dean's skull, Rollins grabbing him by the scruff of his neck before Dean fully realized he'd sunk to his knees. He was drifting, barely there and rolled back into the ring mostly by Seth's insistent shoving.  _He's not **worth it**._ The thought surprised Dean. He clung to it while he endured the ferocious onslaught from Seth.

 

_ Not worth it _ .

 

Reigns was there,  _ somehow _ he was there between the two of them on the ropes in the corner and Dean was launched onto his back. He laid there for a second, the wind knocked out of him.

 

_ Rollins ain't fuckin' worth it _ .

 

Rollins took Reigns' boot to his chest for his trouble, then Roman flipped him up for a devastating Powerbomb from his shoulders.

 

_ Roman is worth it _ .

 

They grappled back and forth, blows landing between the three of them with little coordination. Reigns grabbed Ambrose like he was going to Powerbomb him, gasping “ _ lift your hips! _ ” and deliberately overshooting at the last second to drop him back onto his feet. Dean snagged both of Roman's arms, backsliding the larger man over him and jamming his shoulders down onto the mat for a pin. Reigns twisted away though, laughing breathlessly as they chopped and jabbed at one another.

 

_Roman is worth it._

 

Roman took the full force of Seth's next Pedigree but somehow,  _ somehow _ managed to get one of his shoulders up. Seth was  _ furious _ , yelling at the referee while he got to his feet and sized up Roman's limp form. Dean stumbled back to his feet, gripping the apron for dear life as he watched Reigns lift Seth even with his arms trapped in the Pedigree.

 

_ Oh my  **God** , is he worth it. _

 

When Dean flung himself back into the ring to break Roman's pin, he knew this was it. This was the moment, the do-or-die, and if he didn't say it now...

 

His hands dug beneath Roman's shoulders, hauling the battered man forward into his body. Protecting Roman's break-prone nose by propping the other man's forehead against his bicep, Dean sent them both crashing down into the mat with Dirty Deeds.

 

“ _Uce-_ ” Reigns choked out as Ambrose pinned him.

 

“ _I love you_.” Dean said with his cheek pressed to Roman's chest, stunned when Reigns stayed down. 

 

The bell rang and Ambrose knew he had retained the belt, but he took a brief moment to relish the look of wonder on Roman's face. “I'm still the champ.” Dean panted. He rolled onto his back while Seth shrieked in rage and began pitching a tantrum, the canvas shaking with his wrath. “Holy shit, Ro. Thank you.”

 

“Am _brose!_ ” Seth screamed, stomping his feet. “You piece of _shit!_ You and your _knuckledragging gorilla_ of a boyfriend just-”

 

Dean's hearing checked out and his vision went white-hot for a second, some rational part of him noticing that Reigns was blinking back tears. This had still been a loss for him, no matter what happened. And the consequences were sure to be severe. Ambrose got to his feet slowly, trying to calm his breathing as Seth shook the ropes. It would be pretty poor form if he ended up murdering the shit out of Rollins at the very start of the brand split. Newsworthy, but poor form.

 

The resounding slap across the face he delivered stunned the Universe (and Seth) silent. “ _ You _ . Don't talk about  _ anyone _ that way.” Dean growled furiously. “ _ Ever. Again. _ ”

 

“Uce, I think someone's here to see you.” Reigns' jaw was tense, but then he grinned up at Ambrose. The Smackdown locker room flooded the ring and Dean laughed when he saw Tyler Breeze and Fandango 'assist' Seth in his escape from the squared circle.

 

Over the top rope.

 

…

 

“Did...did you really mean what you said back there?”

 

Dean had been waiting all night for this, if he was being honest. He knew that Roman would be unsure, probably thinking that Dean had just said what he did to shock Reigns into not moving long enough to pick up the win.

 

Ambrose turned to look at the other man, watching the way his hands fumbled nervously with his hair. “Why'd you pull your punches?” he asked instead. Dean patted the belt around his waist. “You get tired of the big, shiny W?”

 

Roman looked ridiculously guilty, like he couldn't believe Dean had caught him. “I don't know what you're talking about--” he began.

 

Dean held up a finger, grinning at the other man. “You'd better make Rollins' life  _ hell _ over on Raw, you got it? I expect at least  _ three _ explosive suitcases. More popcorn dumped over that greasy head of his. And,” he paused, sliding a hand through Roman's hair to grip it at the roots and tip Reigns' head to the side. “I expect you to not only  _ believe  _ what I said in the ring, but  _ also _ kiss the fuck out of me.”

 

“Or,” Roman gasped against his mouth. “how about I just fuck the kiss out of you?” His lips curled into a smirk when Dean sputtered out a laugh and shoved him.

 

“You fucking...yeah, alright, get over here.”

 


End file.
